:::communique in August:::

I show the pieces
each in time
side by side
they form a line
an ordinary straight it seems
does dance but slightly in between
the mechanism of your love
a chamber ghost
the bed still warm
the sheet off white
my eyes have cried
do not make known
the truth inside
this coyness that you
stumble past
with gaunt eyes searching
stone for glass
will coil your neck and shatter fist
a girl you see
the serpents kiss
your babbling mouth
should warn you sir
communique
do not disturb.
now you must dress for the fall
the heads shall roll
the roll is called.